Archive of Our Own ^beta

may

“Hold still.” Gwen jabbed her blue pencil in the air before slicing it across her sketchbook once more. “Jeez, someone can’t handle their coffee.”

Duncan rolled his eyes. “What kinda artist are you if you can’t deal with your model squirming a little bit?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. You’re gonna look ugly no matter what angle your hand drapes across your chest.” 

Her strokes were loose across the page as she penciled in his pose: a boxy torso, narrow waist, two cylindrical legs that crossed each other. Across the torso: a cylinder arm connected to a triangle hand. A square behind his angular head. On top of that, she drew two miniature trapezoids to represent Angus and Vampyra, who were lounging on her pillow mere inches from Duncan’s face.

She filled in the details: the skull on his shirt, the lines on his socks, the Walking Love Song poster on her wall, her lizards’ tails. Duncan alternated between making faces at her, petting the lizards, and grumbling about his family. Gwen scolded him several more times. How was she supposed to fix the shading on his pants if he’d rolled onto his side?

Then Duncan stuck his finger up his nose.

“Gross,” she griped. She would’ve thrown her pencil at him if it hadn’t been one of her more expensive purchases. Instead, Gwen defiled her sketch. She abandoned realism for caricature. With a red pencil, she drew snakes squirming out of Duncan’s nostrils. Flowery tattoo sleeve up his arm. Thick red eyeliner.

The frantic scratch of her pencil arrested him. “Okay, what are you drawing over there?”

“None of your business. Go back to complaining about your parents.”

“You don’t wanna hear about that.”

“No, I don’t,” she agreed, even though yes, she did. Their home lives were as different as night and day, but she still cared, and he knew that.

As Gwen sketched a halo of stars and moons around Duncan’s head, a knock sounded on her half-closed door. Mom popped her head in.

“Hi, Mom!” Gwen waved from her desk chair.

Duncan saluted her with a peace sign. “‘Sup.”

“Hey, kids. Good day at school?”

“Yeah.” “Uh-huh.”

Gwen hoped Mom missed the sly look she and Duncan exchanged. It wasn’t like she reveled in lying to Mom, but it was their senior year. Why on Earth would they go to school when they could spend all day hanging out at her empty house?

“Good to hear.” Mom smiled at both of them. She was literally the best. “There’s some pop in the fridge downstairs if you want it. Make sure you get some fresh air, okay? Go on a walk.”

“I will,” Gwen promised. 

When the door had shut behind Mom, Duncan snorted. “So when are you gonna tell her?”

“I don’t—do you want me to tell her?” Gwen began a final attempt at the shadows under Duncan’s chin.

As he slid Angus and Vampyra onto his chest, Duncan shrugged. “Your call, Pasty. I’m just saying, you’re actually pals with your ma. She’s not gonna jump down your throat or anything.”

That was true. Gwen and her mom were a far cry from Duncan and—well, literally anyone else in his family.

“I know that. Move over, doofus.” Sketchbook in hand, Gwen scooted onto her bed, snuggling against Duncan. His arm came down around her as she let him examine the sketch.

“I look hot.”

“Just drawing it like I see it.” Gwen smirked. It was nice to have a willing model from time to time.

Duncan looked down at the lizards on his chest. “Yo, can I feed them now?”

“They can wait a little bit. I wanna stay right here, forever.” Her bed was an island, an oasis shared only by herself, Duncan, and her lizards.

“We shoulda done this months ago.”

“Yeah,” Gwen murmured. She tilted her chin ever so slightly to look up at him. “I’m gonna tell my mom when the London episode airs. Which won’t be until, like, August or something, but that’s probably for the best.”

She was already playing out the conversation in her head. Hey, Mom! Remember how I swore for months that there was nothing going on between Duncan and me, and that we were just friends? Well, you’ll never guess who I started dating while we were filming season three!

“Probably,” Duncan agreed. “If you think about it, sneaking around is kinda hot.”

Gwen chuckled. “We’re not sneaking around. We’re just hanging out like we’ve been doing since after Action. On the outside, nothing’s changed.”

“Except I can kiss you.”

“Except you can kiss me,” Gwen conceded. And that’s exactly what they did.

june

“I’ll kick your butt next time,” Duncan promised as Gwen herded him out the front door.

“Yeah, whatever you say. See ya.” With one final eye roll, Gwen shut the door. It’d been an eventful afternoon of video game fight-to-the-deaths—with the occasional kiss thrown in. The memory was still fresh in her mind, and a warmth crept into Gwen’s face just thinking about it.

“Okay, why’s Duncan always over now?”

Gwen turned around to see her gremlin of a brother at the staircase, leaning against the banister. She forced an eyebrow to raise. Keep it casual. “We’re friends?”

“That’s what you said before you left, but I’ve been keeping track.” Max trounced down the stairs as he spoke. “Ever since you guys got back from filming, Duncan’s been around way more often.”

Keeping track? Gwen groaned. “You sound like every crazy tabloid that’s been following me around for the past year. Get a life, dude.”

“You gotta give me something.”

“I’ll give you some food dye we can inject into the chicken Mom’s cooking for dinner.”

Max’s eyes lit up. There was the prankster Gwen had raised. 

“Now we’re cookin’!” he hollered, bounding into the kitchen with his trademark teenage boy style.

When Gwen checked her phone, she had a missed message.

is the twerp asking questions

How’d you know?

i saw him lurking at the top of the stairs

same way my mom waits for me to sneak back inside lmao

Yikes

Yeah he thinks you’re “always over” now

hes not wrong. u have better games than i do

I’ll tell him that this is all ur mom’s fault for selling your best games

still pissed at her for that

Guess what i’m doing rn

what

Gwen smiled, pocketed her phone, and went to help Max find the chicken.

The prank was a success. Mom flipped her lid when she pulled a green chicken out of the oven, but Gwen and Max were right there, reassuring her with hugs that they did love her and they did appreciate all she did for this family and it was all just a prank. 

In a spare moment, Gwen sent a photo of the green chicken to Duncan, and he responded, wish id been there damn

Maybe it was that camaraderie, that moment of sibling bonding, that possessed Gwen to pull Max into the den after dinner. 

“If you tell anyone what I’m about to say,” she warned in a dangerously low voice, “Chris’ll find out and then we’ll all get sued.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a spider in my eye.”

“Duncan dumped Courtney and now we’re dating.”

“Whoop! Called it!” Max hollered. He pumped his fists in the air, knocking off his baseball cap.

“Keep it down!” Gwen smacked him upside the head. “I haven't told Mom yet!”

“Why? C’mon, bro, you can’t tell me all your girly boy drama, I don’t wanna hear it.”

What’s the most tactful way to explain this? “We didn’t get together in the most ideal circumstances.”

“Is it in your contract to be as vague as possible?”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “I can’t take another two months of you bothering me about Duncan. I’ll tell Mom at the right time, but for now you better keep your mouth shut.”

“Cool. I can do that.” Max grinned. “But only if you let me use your room for guitar practice after you leave.”

That was what he wanted out of this? “You drive a hard bargain,” she said sarcastically, “but I accept.”

Gwen got up to return to her room, but Max threw his hat at her. “What?”

“Well? How’d it happen?”

“What happened to no ‘girly boy drama?’”

“I changed my mind.”

Her brother was such a boy. Gwen settled on the floor and tossed him a controller. “So it started in Egypt, right?”

july

“Just how legal are these?” Gwen asked as she set the box down on the picnic table.

Duncan’s grin was sly, cheeky, like he knew something she didn’t. “C’mon, Gwen, you know better than to ask.”

True. If-slash-when Duncan got caught (again), Gwen could plead ignorance in court. Or something like that. She didn’t think too much about the legal system nowadays.

The problem wasn’t the fireworks, though. The problem was that Duncan was definitely not setting them off on his own property. Every other patriot was in town, celebrating either at the rich-people pool or the town hall. They wouldn’t be bothered at this random open field on the other side of town—probably.

She examined the firework at the top of the box. It was blue and gold and red—“Best in Manitoba!” the wrapping promised. What was the difference between Manitoba fireworks and Ontario fireworks? Were they made with different explosives? Was it just a marketing ploy?

Gwen didn’t ask any of that. Instead, she watched Duncan fiddle with the ignition. His gelled Mowhawk was going limp, as it usually did towards the end of the day. She liked the way strands of green brushed in front of his eyes. Duncan obviously didn’t give a crap, not about his loose hair nor the stubble that had been steadily growing on his chin.

“You should shave,” she said absent-mindedly. They’d been invited back—actually, contractually obligated to return—to compete on a new season of Total Drama in like a week. If Duncan didn’t get rid of his stubble now, Chris would definitely say something.

Duncan flipped her off.

Gwen smiled. “How are you gonna pick up girls with that sorry excuse for a beard?”

“Some girls like it,” he replied. “You’re looking at the most wanted man in Canada.”

“In more ways than one.”

“You know it, babe.”

Gwen settled against the picnic table. Her more stoic friends—like Reaper, or Marilyn, or even Pixie Corpse—would be embarrassed by the girly grin that sat on her face. But she couldn’t help it. Ribbing Duncan always lightened her mood.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Max.

Having fun with duncan??

Yeah

Are the fireworks legal?? Tell duncan ill pay him if he saves a few for me

Gwen was not about to let her little brother get blasted to smithereens. So without looking up, she answered, He said no. So sad.

“If you’re gonna sit on that ‘damn phone’”—apparently, Duncan was impersonating his father—“why don’t you look up how to ignite fireworks?”

Even as she opened up a search bar, she said, “I thought you were an expert.”

“Arson and fireworks are different, sweetheart.”

“Mmmhmm.” Gwen slumped, her head cradled in one hand as she scrolled. Ah, here was a promising article. As soon as she clicked, a new text notification popped up at the top of her screen. It wasn’t Max but Pixie Dust, who’d sent a link to—

Gwen’s eyes popped out of their sockets. Immediately she was wide awake, glued to her phone. “Oh my gosh.”

“What? Did McLean spill more about the new season?”

“No, this is way better. Walking Love Song just announced their tour dates.”

“Holy crap.” Duncan was pressed to her side in the next instant, hovering like a vulture. “When? Where? Don’t leave me hanging.”

She was already talking over him: “I’m reading, I’m reading! They’re gonna be here in March!”

“Hell yeah!” Duncan punched her shoulder. “We’re going, no questions.”

“Tickets go on sale in October. Agh, we could totally go if they don’t sell out by then!” No way was Gwen passing up a chance to see one of their favorite bands in concert. Walking Love Song, despite its name, was heavy metal to the core. It was going to be the most wicked thing ever.

“Screw Canada Day, this is way more important.” Duncan put on a Walking Love Song playlist on his phone.

They both had hated singing on World Tour, but yelling lyrics in a deserted park-slash-field was way different. Gwen sang to her heart’s content. Duncan played air guitar, and then he lit the fireworks’ fuses. They dove for cover as sparks of gold and red and blue whistled into the sky. 

“This is so freaking dope,” Duncan whispered.

“Maybe you should go into the firework trade,” Gwen teased.

They lay in the field for a little while, mumbling lyrics and watching the show until the last light petered out. Duncan got up to light more explosives. He returned to Gwen and offered her the lighter. “Wanna try?”

“Heck yeah,” Gwen agreed. There were fireworks in her ribcage as she let him help her up.

august

“For you.” Duncan sat down with a liter bottle of cherry pop.

“Not grape? Bro, you’re losing your touch.” Gwen flicked his shoulder. “Now that I think about it, how are you even able to shoplift anymore? That dog collar combined with your bad reputation? I’m surprised the security guards don’t escort you around the store.”

“Even if they did, I’d still get this feast.” He’d brought not just the pop but bags of chips and gummy foods. It was a picnic of dollar-store junk foods. “If you’re not satisfied, maybe you should do the dirty work next time.”

Gwen shook her head. If Duncan looted chain supermarkets, that was his business. She, on the other hand, didn’t want her Mom to receive a call from the police station on a random Thursday afternoon.

But whatever. It was food time. They were picnicking in a park near her old elementary school, sitting on the concrete with stolen food. Gwen unscrewed the bottle cap.

“Let’s toast.” She raised the soda. “To your mom.”

“To your mom,” Duncan countered. Gwen laughed. She downed a swig of cherry soda and passed it to Duncan. He gulped it down, more than she had. Oh jeez, she knew what was coming next.

When Duncan burped—loudly—she shoved him away. “Barf! You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Nope. Ma wouldn’t let me get closer than twenty feet. I’ll kiss you, though.”

Gwen let him, savoring both the sunlight on her cheeks and his lips on hers. It was the type of moment that deserved to be captured in art. She imagined them as a sculpture: The Lovers. Made of marble, or perhaps wax. That’d be a hit in contemporary art museums.

“Speaking of moms,” she said as she opened a packet of chips, “I need to tell mine. About us. Preferably before nine tonight.”

Because in t-minus eight hours, “I See London…” was gonna premiere on national television. The entire world was gonna be in their business, whether Gwen liked it or not.

“Pasty, I’m gonna be straight with you. I have no idea how your ma’s gonna take it.” Duncan bit into a blue and red gummy worm. “But she definitely won’t throw you to the streets or anything. She loves you too much.”

“I know that logically, but I’m still so worried! And the worst part is none of the promo trailers mention us at all.” She’d hunted down all of them, even going so far as to check Sierra’s Total Drama blogs. All that the promos had contained was out-of-context confessionals and fart jokes at the expense of Jack the Ripper.

“You gotta rip off the bandaid. When we kissed in London it was kinda…” Duncan’s face twisted as he thought.

“Ambiguous?” Gwen offered, stealing a word from her art textbook.

“Yeah. But everything worked out, right? She can’t be mad at you for that.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up!” Gwen threw her chip bag at him. It was mostly empty, so it bounced harmlessly off his stubble-less face. Extra crumbs scattered across the pavement.

“The birds are gonna eat well tonight,” Duncan remarked, reaching for the bottle again.

He was right. Mom loved her, and even if the show didn’t paint her and Duncan in the best light, it didn’t change anything. She had a great family, a dope boyfriend, and she was heading off to college in a few weeks.

“Pass the gummy worms,” she said, and he did.

september

“So on a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you?”

“Seven.”

“And what’d you tell your mom?”

“Five.” Gwen followed Duncan around the side of the junky beige car. “But she knew I was lying.”

“I’ll bet.”

Duncan’s snort irked Gwen to some degree. He wasn’t going to college, and he hated his home life anyway, so her anxiety was incomprehensible to him. High school had sucked, but what if college sucked more? What if she left behind everything and gained nothing but a flimsy piece of paper? Maybe I should’ve gone to community college and stayed home with Mom. Not to mention Max and Duncan and her other few friends that weren’t high-tailing it out of their town.

So she cracked a joke: “Mom’s probably just hoping I meet some artsy hipster guy and forget all about you.”

Yep, Mom had taken the news just as well as Gwen had expected. After everything had been laid out, there were clipped disapprovals like, “Honey, I think you should reconsider this” and “Have you thought about how Courtney must be feeling right now?” Nothing outright banning her from dating Duncan, but that night Mom had finished watching “I See London…” and gone to bed without another word.

Duncan missed the subtext of her joke and said, “What, you going to a school full of Trents?”

“Don’t go there,” Gwen said sharply. It wasn’t that they avoided talking about Total Drama—Chris was a frequent punching bag in their jokes—but Trent was a flame long-since extinguished, and Gwen would rather not bring him up.

Duncan stepped aside, hands in the air, the beige car acting as a barrier between them. “Just a joke, Pasty. Besides, I’m not going anywhere”— Except jail, Gwen thought—“until I get this freaking car fixed up.”

“Remind me what you have to do?”

He prattled on about gas and mileage and whatever. Gwen tried to follow along, but in truth she cared about cars as much as she cared about Owen’s toe fungus. The important thing was that this morning, she’d come with Duncan to pick out his first car, all for himself. Now he’d be able to make the two-hour drive to visit her at college, and he’d be able to spray paint a skull on the hood or something. 

“Y’know, it’s a miracle you even got your license.” This was considering he’d been in and out of juvie—and in and out of Total Drama—for years.

“Yeah, well, Ian taught me when my dad refused. So I was thinking of borrowing some spare parts from a buddy of mine…”

Ian was one of his brothers. Gwen was one of the few people who knew that sort of trivia about Duncan’s family members. Once, when she’d been talking with Courtney on the plane trip to Brazil, she’d mentioned Ian by name. “Who?” Courtney had asked.

But while Gwen knew about Duncan’s family, she still knew jack about cars. She rested her elbows on the hood of the car. “You should’ve gotten a van, actually. Store a drumset in the back or something.”

Duncan snorted. “I won’t be touring again for a long time.”

Oh right. Der Schnitzel Kickers. They’d been on—her thoughts scattered when Duncan leaned across the car and squeezed her hand. That was the affirmation she wanted—that they’d be alright after she shipped off to college tomorrow.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s take this baby for a test drive.”

“Was the ride from the junkyard to my driveway not a test drive?”

“Nah. It’s about the intent behind the drive. We’re just gonna be cruising, no destination in mind.”

That sounded good to Gwen. As she returned to the passenger seat of Duncan’s car, she glanced at her house and wondered if Mom could see them from inside.

When they were both settled, Gwen waited for Duncan to start the ignition. Instead, Duncan shifted in his seat.

“Hey, Gwen.” They were staring directly at each other. “I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

Duncan? Being upfront with his feelings? I never thought I’d see the day.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m gonna miss seeing your face five times a week.”

He jostled her shoulder playfully. “You’re gonna crush it, okay? I’ve seen your freaking sketchbook; heck, I’m in your freaking sketchbook. If any of your fancy art professors give you crap, I’ll head up there and deck ‘em.”

There was something so romantic about the fact Duncan would commit violence in her name.

“I love you.” The words slipped out with such ease that they must’ve been true forever, the way they were true for Mom and Max.

“Love you, too, Pasty.”

That caught her off guard; she hadn’t expected him to say it back so soon. But Gwen couldn’t press him on it because he’d pressed a kiss to her lips. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss—that would be later—but it was something special regardless.

Then the phone in her pocket buzzed. When Gwen checked, it was from her brother.

Quit making out where the neighbors can see you

Your so embarrassing jeez

Duncan howled when Gwen showed him the thread.

“The kid’s wish is my command,” he said. The engine roared to life, and they were off, screaming obscenities as they flew down the roads, intertwined futures and freedom before them.

october

Of course Duncan’s parents hadn’t allowed him to host his party at their house. Why would they? So Gwen had no idea where Duncan was driving them until they parked outside a local bar she’d never heard of.

“It’s new,” Duncan explained, draping his arm around her shoulders and leading her in. “Friend of a friend has an in with the owner.”

“Okay, hot-shot.” Gwen had learned early on: despite Duncan’s anti-social appearance, he kept a wide circle of friends, acquaintances, and hook-ups. And tonight, that wide circle was clustered into one bar for his nineteenth birthday.

“Hey.” “Howdy.” “‘Sup?”

Duncan paraded around the room, accepting fist bumps and congratulations and the occasional half-used gift card as a birthday present. Gwen nodded silent hellos to strangers.

It wasn’t Duncan’s fault she knew pretty much no one here. They mostly hung out one-on-one, at her house or on street corners around town. There was Ian, and there was Duncan’s other brother Cameron—did their parents know all three of their boys were out at the bar tonight?—but those were the only faces Gwen immediately recognized.

And she couldn’t even have a drink to loosen up. Gwen was stuck being eye candy, nodding cooly at juvie thugs and graffiti artists until—what? A familiar face?

“DJ!” Gwen yelled. She dragged Duncan over to their mutual friend.

The last time she’d seen DJ was briefly in July, when they’d all been duped into participating in that boat cameo for the currently-unreleased fourth season of Total Drama. In the two-point-five months since then, DJ had remained exactly the same: broad, chill, and warm. He embraced Gwen in a side hug. “Hey!”

“Dude, you never responded to the RSVP.”

DJ fist-bumped Duncan. “Sorry, slipped my mind. I wasn’t sure I could swing this with Mama. But I’m here now, and I’m ready to party.”

“Is Geoff here, too?” Gwen craned her neck in search of a familiar cowboy hat or a flash of pink. Two summers ago, those three had been inseparable—

“No way could I afford to fly him in from the coast,” Duncan scoffed.

“I’m only a few hours away,” DJ explained to Gwen. “I was happy to make the trip for the occasion.”

“And that’s why you’re my ride-or-die, man.” Duncan’s eyes roamed across the space before settling on someone. “Aw, man, I told Randy he wasn’t allowed here.”

“Who’s—”

“I gotta go clear some stuff up.” Duncan patted DJ’s shoulder, and then Gwen’s. “Go get a few drinks, guys. I’ll be right back and then we can toast to McLean rotting in prison.”

That was the top tabloid of the month: it had recently broken that, after wrapping up shooting for season four, Chris had been locked up. Reasons were unknown, but Gwen was half-certain it was because he’d sold his soul to the devil.

“Shall we?” DJ asked.

Despite the roar of music, Gwen didn’t have to strain her voice too much to be heard. “I’m not drinking tonight. I’m staying at my mom’s this weekend, and she’d be upset if I pulled myself to the front door in a drunken stupor.”

“Drunken stupor?” DJ repeated, a teasing smile on his lips. “I get it, though. No drinks for you.”

They got a beer and a cherry cola from the bartender. Thanks to the strings Duncan had pulled, everything was half-off. Good thing she wasn’t drinking tonight, because cheap drinks were a dangerous game.

Gwen caught up with DJ. She bobbed her head to the music, sipped on her cola, and answered questions as best she could. Mr. Popular finally got back to them, a beer of his own in hand.

“Real important question, Deej,” he said loudly. “What do you think Chris got arrested for?”

“Child endangerment,” DJ said. “What else could it be?”

“It could be literally anything,” Gwen said. Chris was basically a certified war criminal. “Do you think someone died?”

Terror filled DJ’s eyes. “No way. That couldn’t happen, could it? They hauled me back to the island for the final four’s challenge, and everyone looked healthy and alive.”

“I made a guest appearance earlier in the week, and everyone was alive, but…” How did Gwen put this delicately? “This one girl had green hair and was nine feet tall.”

“I got to blow up a giant statue of Chris,” Duncan bragged. “Gwen, we gotta watch that episode when it airs. I’m telling you, McLean’s reaction was priceless.”

“Dude, you still haven’t told me the full story!”

Gwen had heard it all before—several times, actually, because it was one of Duncan’s crowning achievements of the summer. But she listened as Duncan entertained DJ with his exploits. They talked about the others that had appeared on season four. Bridgette, who was studying marine biology. Lindsay, who was using her reality TV fame to launch a lipstick collection. Heather, who was halfway to suing the network after the Hawaii debacle. Izzy, who was… Izzy.

Duncan eventually excused himself to take a leak and say hi to some other guests. Gwen shifted in her seat, feeling much more relaxed than she’d been earlier.

“I honestly didn’t expect Izzy to text me,” she added. “I didn’t even realize she had my number.”

“I think I have everyone’s numbers. Except Alejandro’s or Sierra’s, but they weren’t there the first summer, y’know?”

Gwen nodded.

“So have you talked to Co—” DJ fumbled. “Cody! Have you talked to Cody lately?”

There was a twinge in Gwen’s gut, the kind that couldn’t be chalked up to food poisoning or bad alcohol. DJ hadn’t meant to say Cody.

“Nah,” she said casually. Everything was fine. “Haven’t had a reason to.”

“Me neither.”

Gwen could’ve said a number of things in response, but she kept silent and downed the rest of her cherry cola. DJ also worked on his drink. No, it wasn’t awkward. It was just quiet. 

Quiet as a bar could be, anyway.

“I think I’m gonna go find Duncan,” she decided abruptly. “I’ll see you later when the inevitable drinking game starts up.”

DJ gave her a thumbs-up. “Sounds good.”

She trusted him to make friends with the other partygoers. He was DJ, after all.

Duncan’s green Mohawk stuck out like a shark fin in a sea of drinkers. It wasn’t hard for Gwen to find him in the corner, throwing darts with some tattooed guys.

“Hey, bozo.” Gwen rested her elbow on his shoulder. “Wanna come chat with me?”

Duncan’s eye was snapped shut, and he didn’t even look at her as he prepared to shoot his dart. “Orrrrr you could stay and chat right here while I win this game.”

She didn’t want to be that girlfriend, she really didn’t—a clingy mess who couldn’t handle her guy having a life outside of her. But she still felt funny, more than a little uneasy at DJ’s almost-slip-up.

“Don’t you wanna get your birthday present?” Gwen asked with all the poise she could muster.

“On second thought.” Duncan threw his dart. It missed, and all the guys around him erupted into friendly jeers and taunts. Duncan ignored them and followed Gwen outside.

“Keys,” she said.

“Catch.”

Gwen caught them, unlocked the car, and retrieved the box from the car seat.

“Sick, a cardboard box!”

Gwen smiled. “Open it, moron.” 

He did, with all the grace of an inebriated teenage boy. Into his hands fell a can of spray paint.

“Dope! Can never get enough of this.” Grinning, Duncan held it up to inspect in the moonlight. “What color’d you get me?”

“That’s the best part. I had this custom made just for you.” It’d taken over a month staying late in the art studio with one of the professors, but Gwen had done it. She took the canister and turned it over so he could read the handwritten label.

“‘Blueblood,’” Duncan read. “Aw, and you drew my face next to it!”

Gwen smiled and tapped the nozzle. “It’s blue and red! You know those multicolored crayons they sell to kids? It’s the same thing here. Two paints of different viscosities jammed together in one can!” 

“No way.”

“Yes way!”

“Dang, I need to try this out.”

They passed a group of high schoolers on their way to the alleyway beside the bar. Duncan’s tag was nothing ornate—it was a lizard with blobby eyes and a wonky tail. 

“It’s Angus,” he said proudly, and Gwen held her phone light up to the wall so they could admire the paint. Angus—or this crappy representation of him—was red in the eyes, blue on the body, and various shades of purple where the paint colors mixed together.

“Dude, I don’t even know how you got your hands on this.”

Gwen shrugged modestly. “Sometimes sucking up to authority has its perks, I guess. Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it. I hope you memorized the recipe or whatever, ‘cause I’m gonna be running this can dry by next week.” Duncan shook his head in amazement. “I gotta really step my game up for your birthday.”

“That you do,” Gwen agreed. She wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t, though. Duncan’s cash flow was shaky, and they’d tried to keep this relationship as casual as possible. It’s not like that mattered tonight, though. Gwen threw her arm around his waist and they wandered back inside to rejoin the party.

november

Gwen didn’t feel too bad about it. She already paid the school buttloads of tuition money; they could survive if she saved a few bucks on an overpriced dessert at the school cafe.

“Your genius is unparalleled,” Gwen said to Duncan. He was the one who had suggested peeling the barcode stickers off their dessert boxes and replacing them with cheaper barcodes.

“I gotta admit: I stole that off the internet.”

They sat down at a table near the windows, each with a little slice of red velvet cake. Gwen began unboxing hers and said, “Your Internet browsing skills are unparalleled, then.”

“That’s more like it. I wish you’d told me your college had such an upscale cafe. I would’ve stolen from it way sooner.”

Affectionately, Gwen kicked him under the table. “I wouldn’t call this upscale.” It wasn’t to her, at least. Or maybe it only seemed that way to Duncan, who would rather scam meals from fast-food joints than play nice at a family dinner in a quality restaurant. Gwen didn’t see a problem with that, but c’mon, today was special.

Duncan was already digging into his cake like an excited undertaker. “Best birthday celebration ever?”

“Meh.”

“Meh?” Duncan repeated incredulously. “You get to play hooky from your one class of the day, you’re eating some delicious cake for lunch, we’re gonna spend the rest of the day hanging out, and all you can come up with is meh?”

“I’m just saying, nothing can top my fifth birthday party.”

Recognition flickered in Duncan’s eyes. “Oh yeah. That was the venomous snake incident, wasn’t it?”

“Mmm-hmmm.” The memory brought a fond smirk to Gwen’s face. “So unless you unleash a rabid dog on campus, I think you’re permanently stuck at number two.”

“Shows how much you know. My gift is gonna make Sammy the Snake look like a weenie.”

Gwen might’ve been eating cake, but she wasn’t the one full of it. “Okay, so prove it.”

“Dude, not now. I’m saving it for tonight’s dinner.” Duncan leaned back like he was the smoothest guy in the world.

Gwen wasn’t a steamroller like Courtney had been—she and Duncan got along so well because she actually respected his boundaries—but now her curiosity had been piqued. Plus, it was her birthday. She wasn’t letting him get away that easily.

“Tell me,” she said.

“Nope.”

“Tell me.”

“Nah.”

“I’ll let you pick the movie if you tell me now.”

“I am not budging on this, Pasty. Besides, we both know we’re in for a rewatch of Bloodbath 2: Summer Camp Reign of Terror no matter who’s picking.”

Shows how much you know. If he was gonna act difficult, no way was he seeing a single second of Summer Camp Reign of Terror tonight.

Two hours later, she said, “This can all go away if you just give me my birthday present now.”

Duncan’s head was buried in her pillow. “No.”

“You can’t not watch the movie, dude. You said you’d watch whatever I picked.”

“That was before I realized you’d force me into Princess Giggle’s Magical Mystery Tower. This is my personal idea of hell, man.”

Gwen smiled. She also wanted Princess Giggles to die a cruel and unusual death, but at least Duncan was getting the torture he deserved. Since he was hiding in the pillow, she turned the volume up louder. Her roommate was out in afternoon classes, so no one else was around to hear Princess Giggles’s excited peals of laughter or Duncan’s wails of torment.

But he still wouldn’t cough up the present, and Gwen actually had to sit through the entire one-hour and forty-minute movie. And at that point, she was seriously wondering if this whole thing had been worth it.

“I need a drink,” she muttered as the end credits rolled.

“That’s my cue to take you to dinner,” Duncan said. “Although I don’t think you deserve it after making me watch that.”

Gwen punched his arm.

They picked a restaurant a short walk from campus. It was a cheap one that Gwen frequented with her classmates. The food was good—Gwen took photos of her meal to use as references for her still life class, and Duncan ordered two platters of french fries. Every so often, Gwen prodded him about the gift, but he’d smile and stuff more fries into his mouth.

“You said you’d show me at dinner, and we’re literally finished with our food.” Gwen gestured to the empty plates on their table. “Do you see how this doesn’t make sense anymore?”

“Fine, fine! I never should’ve brought it up in the first place.”

Duncan fished around in his pockets. Maybe he’d found her some cool animal bones on the side of the road. Or maybe he’d pawned a bracelet from some—oh my gosh Walking Love Song tickets.

Gwen’s eyes popped out of their sockets. “What. The. Heck. Duncan!”

“You, me, one sick show.”

“What seats?”

Duncan’s smile broadened. “Pit.”

Holy shit. Pixie Corpse was gonna flip when she found out. In the next instant, Gwen was leaning across the table and her hands were on Duncan’s face and she was kissing him, thanking him. Only when his hand found its way into her hair did Gwen remember where she was. She pulled away before the PDA got too nasty.

“How’d you get these?” Gwen admired the tickets the way a bride would admire her wedding ring.

“Stealing from my mom’s purse. Y’know, a ten here, a five there. It adds up.”

Sometimes hearing about Duncan’s family sent a prickle down her spine. She loved her own mom, but he was willing to steal from his own without a second thought. 

These are tickets to the hottest concert of 2013, she reminded herself. And Duncan’s mom is kind of a jerk. What mother doesn’t let her son celebrate his birthday in his own house?

So yeah, who even cared at this point?

“Best birthday ever,” she said instead. She could see them now: crowd surfing, diving in the pit, rocking out.

“Told ya I’d blow that snake out of the water,” Duncan said.

“You gotta be on good behavior,” Gwen warned. “Can’t go to this concert if you’re in prison.”

“No way am I going back. The food there sucks, and I wouldn’t be able to see you.” Duncan twirled the tickets between his fingers. “On second thought, that’s a plus."

“Shut up.” Gwen laughed. “You know you’ll miss me.”

december

“This movie sucks,” Max announced from his seat on the ground.

“Shut up! It’s a cinematic masterpiece!” Gwen generally didn’t defend Christmas movies with such vigor, but she enjoyed any excuse to quibble with her brother.

She sat on the couch, and Duncan’s arm was around her, and he traced loose circles on her shoulder. “Kid’s right, Gwen. I’m ready to fall asleep.”

“Don’t give me that ‘not enough blood’ crap. I love gore as much as you do.” Gwen poked his chest. “I think you need to expand your horizons.”

“Coming from the chick who’s been using the same hair dye since she was twelve.”

“It looks good!” Gwen promised herself she’d experiment after graduation, but until then, why fix what wasn’t broken?

Before Gwen could rake Duncan through the mud for his own cosmetic choices, Mom returned to the living room bearing two cups of hot cocoa.

“Aw, I could’ve gotten that, Mom.” Gwen took both and handed the second to Duncan. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Duncan added politely, which Gwen appreciated. She’d warned him to be on his best behavior.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss a second of your favorite holiday movie.” Mom ruffled Gwen’s hair before moving to join her youngest child on the ground.

Gwen didn’t need to look at Duncan to know how eyebrow had risen. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d called Life is Wonderful a cinematic masterpiece.

“Where’s my hot cocoa?” Max whined.

“Didn’t I just hear you say you hate this movie?” Mom said dryly. “Besides, Gwen has a guest.”

Her heart skipped a beat. After the premiere of “I See London…” in August, it had taken Mom an entire semester to warm herself up back to Duncan. Gwen had hesitantly invited him over a few times since break started. Each time, Mom had been cordial enough to him. Nothing like before, but at least Duncan was allowed in the house.

And then, knowing Mom was well-aware of Duncan’s stressful home life, Gwen had taken a leap of faith and asked if he’d be allowed to come over on Christmas Eve. Mom had agreed. Thus, family movie night—a tradition dating back to kindergarten—had expanded to include one more member this year.

It was Christmas Eve on-screen, too. Greg Balefield returned home to his wife and kids, preaching the joys of the Christmas spirit, proving himself to be a caring husband and father. Once upon a time, a younger Gwen had teared up, wishing for that scene to be her real life.

Now, Gwen rested her head on Duncan’s shoulder, relishing the moment. She was surrounded by her three favorite people, watching a dope movie, and about to drink Mom’s famous hot chocolate, the best she’d ever tasted.

“Do you really like this movie that much?” Duncan murmured into her hair.

Gwen nodded. “Do you really dislike it that much?” she whispered.

There was a burst of dialogue on the screen. Hugs and kisses and money were exchanged.

“It’s not that bad,” Duncan admitted when the commotion had settled. Did the same scenes that had resonated with Gwen resonate with him, too?

Gwen sat up. “Whipped cream?” She tilted it in the direction of his mug. In response, Duncan opened his mouth. Gwen poured it in and then, just for fun, “accidentally” flicked her wrist so that the whipped cream went up his nostrils, too.

“Hey!” Duncan spluttered. Gwen just sniggered and sipped her cocoa. It was Christmas; who could blame her?

january

The temperature was so bitterly cold that it could’ve frozen Gwen’s mascara off. As soon as she stepped into the mall, Gwen shed her cocoon of coats and gloves and scarves. She stuff her jacket into her backpack and trudged through the mall, ignoring outlets plastered with advertisements and vendors promising free samples.

When her fingers had warmed back up, Gwen responded to her text conversation with Cody: what exactly am I looking for?

Cody sent back the link to the tablet he’d mentioned.

That was why she was here at the mall. Not to giggle and gossip like the vapid Heathers of the world, but because Cody had suggested snagging a tablet before the after-Christmas tech sales ended. The one in the question was half-off. It wasn’t the best one out there, but Gwen would settle for cheap.

Thanks, she texted Cody.

No prob Gwen. Let me know if you need help with anything else B)

Him and his middle-school emoticons. Gwen pocketed her phone. She’d definitely made his day by taking his advice.

Froyo looks really good right now. If she had the extra cash, she’d get a small cup of cherry. Too bad she was a broke college student (and a broke art student, to boot). This tablet was gonna be her single splurge of the month—the semester even.

Gwen had no issue finding the tablet, but when she got into the check-out line, the salesgirl gawked at her. “Are you Gwen from Total Drama?”

Here we go again.

“No,” she lied. Her voice jumped half an octave, an accidental accent she’d adopted after her post-World Tour spike in popularity. “I get that a lot, though. It’s not like she’s the only person in the world who dyes her hair green.”

“Oh.”

Gwen squinted at the girl’s name tag, Ava. Ava needed to mind her own business. 

According to the price flashed across the screen, Gwen hadn’t brought enough cash. Drat. She fished out her debit card and handed it over. Out of nowhere, a scandalized look appeared on Ava’s bird-ish features.

“You are Gwen from Total Drama!”

Gwen’s heart plummeted to her boots. My card. Stupid debits cards that contained personal information. She was gonna call her bank about this.

“Boy, you are a total skank,” Ava continued. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you lied, since you lied on the show, too. Like, Courtney was your best friend! And you kissed her boyfriend behind her back! Why is anybody still friends with you?”

The words rattled in Gwen’s ears. Courtney was your best friend. She grabbed her card back. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The whole thing was on TV, right? Of course I know what I’m talking about!”

Gwen clutched the tablet to her chest. “What, did you want Duncan to stay in a relationship he clearly didn’t care about just so Courtney didn’t get her feelings hurt?”

“He could’ve dumped her first!”

Was she seriously having this conversation, in the middle of a mall, with some high schooler she’d known for two minutes? “You don’t know any of us personally. Go stock some laptops or something, jeez.”

“Where’s your pathetic cheating boyfriend? I’ve got some words for him, too! Team Courtney all the way!”

Team Trent. Team Gwen. Team Courtney? When did it end?

Gwen thundered out of the mall without stopping to put her jacket on. The wind bit against her skin, cracking the fragile skin of her hands and lips. She wasn’t a crier—okay, she was, but this pushy sales girl was not going to get the best of her—but she felt rotten, like entrails left out for vultures.

For the most part, when she got recognized people just wanted a selfie or an autograph or an answer to a burning question. She’d gotten snide comments a few times, too. But this? This was the most aggressive fan Gwen had ever encountered.

She watched her breath cloud in the air. No one knew anything about her. Courtney had been her friend, yeah, but when it came down to it, Duncan had been her friend first. Before World Tour, she’d listened to his side of the story: Courtney was bossy and demanding and controlling. On the plane, she’d listened to Courtney’s side of the story, about how Duncan was reckless and immature and inconsiderate. 

It was a war between her two good friends, a constant clash between freedom and tyranny, good and evil. And Gwen had finally picked a side.

“Don’t even think about it,” she muttered. At the end of the day, Duncan was happier. And Courtney had hated every inch of him—Gwen had seen the list herself. So that meant at the end of the day, Courtney must be happier, too.

The situation had been sticky, like oil pastels melted in the sun, but even if the entire viewing world had watched it unfold, it was nobody else’s problem but hers.

Not even the tablet in her hands helped to fix the pit in her stomach. She needed someone. Needed reassurance.

Fingers shaking, heart pounding, Gwen called her best friend.

“Pasty? You good up there?”

“No.” Gwen paced. Wind whipped at her hair. “Some girl recognized me and then started yelling at me for being a boyfriend kisser and—”

“Woah, you’re not listening to that junk, are you?”

“No, Duncan. It just sucks, alright? I don’t even know what Courtney’s doing right now—”

“Does it matter?”

Gwen kicked the curb. “I guess it doesn’t.”

“Okay, so then what’s the problem? I’m happy, you’re happy, and our contracts expired so we never have to see Courtney again.”

Gwen stared at the ground. What was the problem? Everything had worked out in the end, right? She and Duncan were way better for each other than Courtney and Duncan had been.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” she said. If she was looking for someone to tell her she was doing the right thing—which she wasn’t—she wouldn’t have called her criminal boyfriend.

“I get it. Listen, Gwen, you know I kinda suck at this calming-people-down shtick.”

She cracked a smile. “Yeah, you kinda do.”

“I can list all of Courtney’s worst qualities if you want. Do you know how annoying it was to have someone breathing down my neck about changing my hair color and getting rid of my piercings and shaving my goatee? And here I was thinking she liked the mohawk. She certainly did when we stole those snacks from Chef back on Wawanakwa.”

As Duncan kept rambling, Gwen allowed her shoulders to untense. She began the treck back to the bus station that would return her to campus. His last relationship had sucked. It was better for the entire world that Duncan and Courtney had ended and that she and Duncan had begun.

All’s well that ends well, Gwen reminded herself. And screw Ava.

february

Duncan didn’t spill the beans until they were well out of town.

“So I got a job.”

Gwen gawked at him. “You? Working? No way.”

He drummed his hands on the steering wheel. “I had to. If I don’t start making my own money, Ma’s gonna wise up and realize I’ve been mooching off her since Total Drama ended.”

It made sense. Duncan had odd jobs here and there, but those weren’t gonna pay for fuel and food and whatever else he needed. Still, there was that prickle again. Gwen turned down the stereo—they were playing Walking Love Song again—so she could listen to Duncan better. “What is it? No, wait, lemme guess.”

Duncan rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna be guessing for a while.”

“Is it cool or lame?”

“You think I’d stick around at a lame job?”

“True.” If Duncan ever worked in sales, he’d prove the corporate-to-prison pipeline was real.

“Tattoo parlor,” Gwen guessed. “Hair salon.”

“Nah.” He shook his head.

“Roadie? Bartender?”

“Wait, back up. I could be a bartender.”

“You’d need a license.”

“Drat. I’m too lazy for that.”

Duncan maneuvered down an exit ramp, and Gwen was still trying to figure out a job that was both cool and plausible. “Carpentry apprenticeship? Mechanic apprenticeship?”

“You’re getting colder.”

“Okay, I give up. Where’s your amazing new job?”

“The pound near your old high school.”

“A pound?” Gwen repeated. “Like, for dogs?”

“Yep. I work at reception.”

“I thought you said your job was cool.” Reception sounded mind-numbingly boring.

“It’s not the coolest,” Duncan conceded. “But not a lot of people come in, so I head to the back and hang out with the dogs. We have some bulldogs and pit bulls that no one ever touches. I say hi to them through the cages.”

Gwen smiled. “Wow, that’s swe—”

“Not sweet,” Duncan clarified. “Just lookin’ out for those guys.”

“But you said reception.”

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to go walk in and work with them. Yet. Right now I’m working on a gum mosaic on the underside of my desk. No one’s caught on yet.”

“Wow. So rebellious.”

“One of the guys in charge, though, he’s totally annoying.”

Gwen listened and laughed as Duncan explained the pranks he’d set up. He was clever when he wanted to be, and funny, not to mention an excellent storyteller. She was so invested in the plastic-wrap-toilet-bowl prank that she didn’t even realize that they’d arrived at their destination.

“M’lady.” In a stunning act of satire, Duncan opened the passenger door so Gwen could step out.

“How’d you hear about this place?” Gwen asked. It was a worn-down park in the middle of some town far enough away that the local police wouldn’t immediately recognize Duncan’s graffiti tags.

“Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Friend of a friend of a friend.”

Right, because that explained everything. Gwen filed away that information: if she ever wanted a new place to experiment with graffiti tagging, just ask Steve.

Duncan had only brought a few of his old canisters, plus the Blueblood two-tone spray Gwen had gifted him. The sight of it made her smile.

“What are you doing this time?”

“Can’t decide between something grotesque and something anarchical.”

“You could try poetic,” she suggested.

Duncan snorted. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

Gwen wasn’t a pro with the sprays like Duncan was. She worked on smaller canvases, and this was so large it was overwhelming. What to paint, what to paint… morbidity? Morbidity was good. Gwen picked out a red paint and began drawing from memory. This wasn’t realism, this was an approximation. If it looked close enough to the real thing, who’d be able to tell the difference?

They worked in silence aside from Duncan cussing whenever his paint went askew. Gwen kept her gaze on her own work. That way, she’d be surprised by whatever he churned up. The weather was frigid, but at least they’d picked a wall that shielded them from the blustery February winds.

After an eternity, Duncan set down his paints. “Finito,” he announced.

She looked up immediately. Duncan had taken the poetic route after all. He’d painted a rose: turquoise leaves, red-and-blue leaves. Gwen grinned.

“We’re matching,” she said. Her design was a bleeding heart, aortas and all.

“You read my mind, man,” he said. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Dude, you remembered?” Gwen hadn’t brought it up—it was Valentine’s Day.

Duncan laughed. “Why the heck do you think I drove all the way out here in this cold to hang out with you on a Thursday?”

“Because if you tag another building at home your dad’s gonna arrest you?”

“True, true.” Duncan pulled her into a hug, and Gwen stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. This was great. They stood there for a bit, admiring their artwork.

march

Gwen was laughing hysterically, leaning into Duncan as they walked, her path stumbling into his. She wasn’t drunk—she’d only had the teeniest Mahogany cocktail from the venue bar. So she wasn’t drunk, she was just insanely happy.

For once, she’d set her expectations high and hadn’t been disappointed. The concert was everything Gwen had dreamed of and more. They’d arrived late because Duncan had taken more than a few detours. Gwen blamed the cops that had started trailing them. But they’d shown up, flashed their tickets, and entered seamlessly into a sea of hair dye, chains, and heavy eyeliner.

When the lights shut off, the room silenced. There was a low rumble of murmurs. Hands gripped phones and hung in the air, anticipating the band’s entrance. Gwen didn’t let herself breathe, didn’t let herself blink.

The opening guitar riffs shredded the silence. Fluorescent lights flooded the air. The drummer and guitarists took their places, and the lead vocalist skipped onstage. An explosion of applause erupted. The spell was broken, and the show was on.

Every single song had Gwen rocking on the balls of her feet. She shouted lyrics. She threw her arms in the air. She went nuts. The crowd writhed, and Duncan hoisted her onto his shoulder so she could see better. Gwen hung on to his shoulders for dear life. At some point, both of them crowd surfed through the pit. They might’ve made out afterward. Gwen might’ve lost her jacket in the commotion.

Now there was a ringing in her ears and an unshakable grin on Gwen’s face. Duncan wrapped his hand around her waist as they blundered down the sidewalk back to his car.

“And the guitar,” Gwen gushed. “I swear the acoustics in there made everything sound fifty times better than the album.”

“I liked the ad-lib during ‘California Heaven,’” Duncan chuckled. “Nothing like forgetting the words to your own song in the middle of a performance.”

Gwen shot him a look, and his hand flew up defensively. “What? It happens to the best of us!”

She stopped walking and stared up at him. Half-joking, she asked, “Did it happen to your band?” 

“Well keep in mind, I didn’t know any of the lyrics. Half the songs were either in German or Czech.”

That was the last time they’d been at a concert together. A year ago, maybe to the date. Except the circumstances had been unimaginably different. When Gwen had led Courtney into White Chapel and discovered Duncan performing on stage—Gwen remembered every emotion. The disbelief flooding through her system, the sheer astonishment that they’d found him halfway across a continent, the wow he’s really hot playing the guitar moment.

Without her jacket, her arms were cold. “What time is it?”

“Uh—11:11. I’ll get you back by midnight, Pasty, promise.”

“I’m not worried about that, dummy.”

“Okay good, ‘cause I might’ve been lying.”

There was one more thing she recalled, and it was when she’d been waiting in the stage wings, burlap bag in hand. The girls had set a trap, and Courtney had been the bait. It was her job to distract Duncan, catch him off-guard. She’d approached, running her hands through her sleek brown hair, too busy prattling on to notice what Gwen had: the split-second look of complete and utter disgust on Duncan’s face at the sight of his ex-girlfriend.

But in the next moment, Courtney had pinned him to the ground, and Gwen pulled the wool over his eyes, and she hadn’t had time to process it all until much, much later.

“Hello? Earth to Gwen!” Duncan patted her head the way DJ would pat a bunny. “Starting to think an alien robot took over your brain.”

“Do you miss Der Schnitzel Kickers?”

His brow knit in confusion. “Um, a little bit? We were dirt poor, out on the streets, but it’s nothing I wasn’t used to. And I was playing some really sick melodies. I wish you’d been there, Gwen, you would’ve loved it.”

She probably would’ve. But while Duncan had been scrounging his way through southern Europe, Gwen had been building a friendship with Courtney, her partner-in-crime in London. Between trading facts about White Chapel and laughing at Heather’s expense, they’d made a great team. And Gwen had liked spending time with her. Courtney had a million and one flaws, but so did Duncan.

“…so I guess what I’m saying is that I hoped they’d reach out to me, but they didn’t, so I’ve moved on,” Duncan was saying. Gwen blinked. Crud, she’d zoned out during his whole monologue. He shot her a look. “Wow, Walking Love Song really did a number on you, huh?”

“You have no idea.” The smile faded from her face as soon as Duncan looked away. 

It was true in the literal sense—Walking Love Song had killed it tonight—but in a much deeper sense, Duncan couldn’t really understand the feelings she’d kept buried for months. He’d walked away from an unfilling relationship. Gwen had walked away from a good friend. She’d prioritized romance over friendship.

She and Duncan kept talking about the concert and the songs and the rebellion, but all Gwen was thinking was:

Oh my gosh. I broke Courtney’s heart.

april

The flames steadily grew brighter, and Duncan looked at Gwen. “You ready for this?”

Gwen, her arms folded, nodded. “Do your thing.” Her grip tightened ever so slightly on the letter in her hand.

When the letter had arrived, Gwen had been home for Easter break, and she’d ignored it—at least until Duncan texted her. 

did td network mail you something

Yeah but I didn’t open it

Should I? Did you?

yes bruh open it

Gwen had torn the envelope open and had been dismayed, if not dumbfounded, that she was being asked to return to the show. All Stars … 9 competitors … new contracts …

Yeah, she’d thrown that on the ground immediately. She texted Bridgette and Leshawna, and Duncan texted Geoff and DJ—none of them had been asked back except Leshawna, who was convinced Chris was setting them up for a prank the way he’d done last summer. If no one else was going back, then Gwen wasn’t, either. She’d be glad to forget all about that fiasco of a show.

Except she didn’t forget. In design class, Gwen found herself sketching Courtney’s profile on accident. And when her final history paper offered “contemporary London” as one of the prompt options, Gwen did a double-take.

Maybe Bridgette and Geoff and DJ hadn’t been invited back, but what if Courtney had? Courtney would never turn down an opportunity to win money or to prove herself as the best, Gwen knew that much.

The letter sat on her shelf, gathering dust until Duncan texted a week later.

great idea

do u still have your invite leter

*Letter

And yeah it’s around here somewhere

Perfect. we’re gonna burn them bonfire style

I’m so down

Except she wasn’t so down.

That weekend Duncan picked her up and drove her to what must’ve been their millionth park. This one had actual fire pits so Duncan wouldn’t run the risk of burning down the forest. Now that the fire had been lit, they could get on with it.

“Ladies and Gwen,” Duncan said, his voice unusually somber, “we are gathered here today to commemorate a very special show.”

Gwen sat on the other side of the pit, letter in hand, posture atrocious. Despite the spiders in her stomach, Duncan’s theatrics brought a smile to her face.

“Sike! Total Drama, you’ve introduced me to some great friends”—he raised his letter as if he were toasting her—“and a really hot chick. I came really close to winning a million dollars, but I’ll be damned if I have to put up with Chris McLean ever again.”

Without a second thought, Duncan crumpled up his letter and threw it into the flames. The paper ball charred and singed, a million dollars condemned to a fiery end.

He’s not gonna understand.

Duncan was smiling, proud and amused. “Gwen, your turn. Any last words?”

Gwen’s gaze dropped to the letter in her hands. 

“I need to go back.”

She didn’t catch his reaction, but confusion forced its way into his tone. “What? Why?”

“Because I screwed up with Courtney. Look, I know she’s a massive bitch sometimes”—the words were coming out in a rush, watercolor running down the page—“but you act like a jackass, too! And so do I, and I guess maybe everyone’s a little bitchy sometimes. I know you aren’t coming and you don’t have anything to say to her, but I feel like I do and if I go back maybe I can fix things and she won’t—”

Duncan’s hands wrapped around hers. Gwen was so startled that she forgot the rest of her shtick and looked up into his blue eyes.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

“Do what?”

“Go back to Total Drama.”

Had his brain been snatched by an alien? “But you just burnt your letter!”

Duncan took the seat next to her. “Look,” he said seriously, “I could care less about Courtney. But if you go, I’ll come to support you. Maybe new contracts will make it less sucky this time around.”

“You’d do that?”

His tone shifted into something more lighthearted. “Besides, I’d blow my brains out if you went away for two weeks.”

Gwen was still processing everything. She’d completely underestimated Duncan. He’d go back to the island, to Chris’s sadism, to Courtney, for her?

“I love you so much, Duncan, you don’t even know.” She threw her arms around him in the most forceful hug she’d ever initiated. He was solid and sturdy. He’d always been there for her. How could anyone say this was wrong?

‘We’re going back to the island!” she said into his neck.

Duncan pulled away from the hug so they were face to face again.

“Hell yeah!” he cheered. “Let’s start a riot!”

“We’re gonna win the money and we’re gonna burn the camp to the ground!” Metaphorically, of course.

“That’s my girl!” Duncan elbowed her. “Also, you’re gonna have to email them for me. Y’know, since I burned my letter.”

Gwen laughed and shoved her invitation into her pocket.